by Iliev, Neven
“Who, or what, was that?”
“That, I believe,” Keira smiled weakly, “was the Sandman.”
Part Four
“Wait, you mean the Sandman?!” one of the male elves exclaimed. “As in, the guy that single-handedly decimated Azurvale’s criminal underworld?!”
“Well, yeah… I mean, maybe… I don’t know, could be?”
Keira’s wavering response did little to reassure the man.
“Look, I’m not sure if that’s really the Sandman from the rumors,” Lola butted in, “but I’ve seen that guy before. We caught a glimpse of him a week ago when we were sent to clear out a group of bandits.”
“Wh-what happened to those bandits,” he asked her.
“Gone without a trace. Not even blood was left behind.”
“And you’re sure it’s the same one?”
“Trust me, there’s not a lot of guys taller than me. I’d almost think he was a demon or something if not for his lack of horns.”
“Oh, right,” Jules mumbled from the side. “I should probably summon my familiar now that I have the chance.”
The Warlock had put off doing so because of the danger involved. Standing perfectly still for ten whole seconds in the middle of a war zone while concentric circles of light swirled around him seemed like an immensely stupid idea. But, now that they were out of that damned camp and too far away for the light show to attract any unwanted attention, he wasted no more time in summoning his familiar. All eyes were on Purupururin when she materialized out of thin air—dressed in high heels, lacy stockings, matching gloves, a fetishistic corset, and a positively tiny thong. As scandalous as that outfit was, the succubus was still the most modestly dressed person in the group.
An absurd-sounding, yet true fact that all of the adventurers seemed to realize at the same time.
“Oh, right!” Keira exclaimed. “I managed to find everyone’s stuff!”
She took the large leather bag strapped around her shoulder and began emptying its contents out on the ground. It turned out to be a high-class Bag of Holding that the humans were using to store the prisoners’ confiscated belongings.
“You seriously went around looking for those?” questioned the man from before.
“I know it was a stupid thing to do, but… I couldn’t just leave these behind.”
She solemnly rubbed the three steel rings on her right hand.
“Besides,” she added, “I don’t think we’ll make it that far just in our underwear.”
The group may have ‘borrowed’ some weapons during their escape, but they’d been so focused on running away that none aside from Keira had even considered to look for anything else.
“I suppose it was the right call,” Lola nodded. “How did you break out, exactly?”
“Hmm? What are you saying, Lola?” Keira replied with an aloof smile. “We were together the entire time, weren’t we? That mysterious stranger freed us, yes?”
“Huh? But you got carried off by-”
“We. Got. Freed. Together. Right?!”
“… Right.”
It was painfully obvious she didn’t want to talk about what had transpired after she was separated from the group. The others made grim expressions as they silently got dressed. They shared a few worried looks and wordlessly agreed not to touch that particular topic, at least for the moment.
“Say, that’s weird,” Jules spoke up. “I don’t see my staff. Or my rings, for that matter.”
His clothes, armor, cloak, and alchemical field kit were all there, but the mithril-tipped staff and enchanted jewelry were gone. Others also couldn’t find whatever magical or valuable items had been taken from them.
“I dunno. Maybe they put the fancy stuff in a different bag or something?” Keira shrugged.
It certainly wasn’t like some shiny-obsessed monster stole those items specifically.
“More like the thieving bastards kept the expensive stuff for themselves,” someone else complained. The rest readily agreed.
This vitriolic assertion wasn’t entirely caused by propaganda-fueled prejudice. Unlike soldiers, adventurers had to procure and provide for their own equipment, so having their most prized possessions wind up missing was a bitter pill to swallow.
“How come only her valuables were left behind?” one of the other female Rangers pointed at Keira.
“These rings are sentimental, you jackass,” the redhead snapped at her. “They’re not magical, they just… Look, I know you’re angry, but I grabbed what I could, okay?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry for saying that,” the Ranger quickly apologized. “It wasn’t fair. Really, thank you, for everything.”
With that matter settled, everyone geared up. The group began the long trek back to base, unsure of what to think of the evening’s events. Except for the two succubi in their midst. It went without saying that the one masquerading as Keira knew exactly what had transpired, seeing as she helped make it happen. Purupururin, on the other hand, had watched the Boxxy show with great interest while she was ‘away.’ She couldn’t help but be impressed at how masterfully her fellow succubus played her part as Keira. Then again, it was hardly surprising considering her heavy involvement in the development of the persona.
Back on Boxxy’s side, it continued its indiscriminate rampage, and managed to slaughter around seven hundred of the Empire’s soldiers before being forced to pull back. It would have gladly continued, but it was running out of steam. Even if Butcher of Humanity constantly replenished bits of its HP and MP, it didn’t mean it could fight indefinitely. Still, it lasted much longer than it would have otherwise, and was genuinely thankful for having this Perk for the first time in its life.
As expected, the Doppelganger Job barely went up to Level 22 despite having murdered a large number of people during the first phase of the attack. It once again reaffirmed that the Job wasn’t a battle-oriented one. That said, it wondered whether it should look into getting a Job that focused on melee combat, hopefully one that could make use of as many of its varied Attributes as possible. In any event, it had realized partway through the massacre that it was wasting valuable combat XP fighting the humans in close quarters and switched to using only Spells and familiars. Thanks to that, it managed to advance its Warlock Job all the way up to Level 47, giving it access to a tasty new Skill.
[Soul Link]
The Warlock’s demonic servants are made to share both the boons and burdens of life.
Requirements: Level 45 Warlock, Demonology
Type: Sustained
Activation Time: Instant
Cost: 10 MP/sec
Range: 100 Meters
[Active Effects]
Transfers 30% of the damage taken by one familiar to all other familiars.
Temporary effects bestowed upon one familiar will also be bestowed to all other familiars.
[Passive Effects]
Increases the HP of all summoned familiars by 3% per Level of this Skill.
Reduces the MP cost of this Skill by 50% at Level 5 of this Skill.
Merges the telepathic links between the summoner and their familiars into a single channel.
This Skill had several potential applications, but they all equated to the same result—its minions would be much harder to kill. It also allowed Boxxy to use the relatively short-ranged Dark Infusion Spell to power up all three of its familiars at once, as long as they were within the very generous one-hundred-meter range of Soul Link. This would, in theory, also work with other strengthening effects, such as a Priest’s magical blessing or alchemical elixirs. However, it seemed likely this ability would also spread negative effects, such as the dark chains summoned by its Shadowbind Spell. Boxxy would need to experiment with the Skill to determine its limits, but it didn’t have the time for that at present.
As for the ‘merging of telepathic links into a single channel,’ it basically meant that all of the demons could now mind-talk to one another and their master, which made
communication easier.
The monstrous Warlock had also learned two new Spells after rising to Level 47. One was a Ruin Spell called Reality Slash, which allowed it to launch an invisible blade that did physical damage rather than magical. It seemed useful for cutting through anti-magic defenses, but was a lot less effective against armor. The other one was Mind Control, which did exactly what its name implied. Boxxy already possessed the far superior Puppet Parasite Skill, so that particular Spell would probably never see much use. It honestly considered most of the Domination Spells at its disposable to be rather lacking and unreliable. Even Mass Panic Spell Crystals were obsolete considering the combination of Butcher of Humanity and Despair Aura had pretty much the same effect. It was a bit disappointing, but the shapeshifter didn’t think it too big an issue since it hadn’t gone out of its way to acquire those Spells.
This was unlike that Fleet Footed Ranger Skill it was forced to pick up. The slight bonuses that Ranger Skill provided to its Agility (AGI) Attribute were really all it was good for. The monster really didn’t feel like picking it up, but it had little choice in the matter. Adventurer guilds had mandatory Full Appraisals every now and then, and Essence Concealment could only hide parts of its actual Status, not show things that weren’t there. Therefore, Faehorn would eventually find out if Boxxy only pretended to pick Fleet Footed. Ignoring the old elf’s sage advice was a very un-Keira-like thing to do, so it had already given up on the Skill as a necessary sacrifice.
While Boxxy enjoyed the rewards of that Imperial harvest, the group of eleven Republic escapees continued steadily making their way towards Fort Yimin. After skillfully establishing herself as the de-facto leader, Xera volunteered to watch their backs while another Ranger took the lead. It was unlikely any of the 8th Imperial Expeditionary Force would dare chase after them considering the losses Boxxy had incurred, but the escapees wouldn’t know that. It was also the perfect excuse to allow the succubus and her Master to stealthily swap places (and outfits) while the others took a brief rest in the shade of one of the few hylt trees in the Clattering Plains.
They reached Fort Yimin shortly before sundown, almost a full day after the rest of their allies. Unsurprisingly, their sudden and unexpected appearance caused a bit of an uproar. The higher-ups had more or less written them off as dead, and yet here they were— exhausted, starving, and thirsty, but most definitely alive. Their identities were confirmed through Appraisal, after which they were taken in to be asked a bunch of questions.
That was how Keira found herself in a tiny room of wood and stone. The walls were depressingly bare and dull and the only furniture around was a small square table in the middle with two chairs on opposite ends. The catgirl sat in one, happily devouring the small plate of grilled meat in front of her. She wasn’t quite sure what animal it came from, nor did she care. The superb taste of human flesh was still fresh in the back of her throat, so she focused on that vividly delicious memory as she thoughtlessly scarfed down whatever this meal was.
At that point, Boxxy began to consider the merits of learning how to preserve meat. Thoughts of human jerky, smoked liver, pickled hearts, and salted fingers passed through its mind, causing its appetite to flare up even more. Eating those things bloody raw was preferable, but there had been far too many bodies for it to devour in one go back in that fight. It had to regretfully leave most of them behind, and the six corpses it put inside its Storage were going to start rotting pretty soon. Besides, cooking those tasty things with other moderately tasty things was bound to let them reach new pinnacles of tastiness, right?
The monster therefore deemed that learning to cook was an endeavor worthy of its time. The Cooking Skill was a general Skill that anyone could acquire and Level Up if they put the time and effort in, not unlike Stealth or Meditation. Boxxy had no idea what exactly the Skill did, but it knew it to be like a miniature and condensed version of the Alchemist Job. Since the shapeshifter thought it did a great job mixing up the ingredients required for the Ritual of Unholy Wealth, it figured cooking couldn’t be that difficult.
Thinking on it some more, Boxxy realized something. If cooking wasn’t all that difficult, and anyone could learn the Skill, then the shapeshifter didn’t really need to do so personally. In fact, having someone else put the work in only for the selfish monster to reap the benefits sounded like a much tastier concept. Now, if only it knew someone gullible enough to waste their own time and effort for the sake of a man-eating murder-box.
Oh wait, it did.
[Boxxy: Ambrosia, are you there?]
[Ambrosia: Greetings, milord. ‘Tis good to hear thou art in good health.]
[Boxxy: Ah, yes, hello. Anyway, you can’t cook, right?]
[Ambrosia: ‘Tis so, milord. I get mine sustenance from the ground beneath mine roots and the sun above mine leaves, after all.]
[Boxxy: Can you learn to cook, then? For my sake?]
[Ambrosia: It would be mine honor, nay, mine pleasure to master the culinary arts in thy name, milord!]
[Boxxy: Very good. Just make sure you focus on meat-based recipes. Use the prisoners for ingredients.]
[Ambrosia: Understood. I shalt make sure to prepare a feast for thy triumphant return.]
Well, wasn’t she enthusiastic? Boxxy actually looked forward to the very capable dryad’s results after hearing that. It had some doubts whether the dryad’s tastes would line up with its own, or whether a sentient piece of vegetation was capable of tasting things in the first place. Still, it was hardly an issue. Worst case scenario—it would just teach Ambrosia what sort of food it liked best and have her prepare it. That would have to wait until later, however. For now, it needed to focus on this tiny room it was locked in, as well as the people it sensed gathering outside the door.
The door opened to reveal the grizzled face of Faehorn, as well as the stern-looking communications officer Keira had been in touch with until recently. The veteran adventurer sat down opposite the catgirl, while the other stood at attention behind him.
“Keira Morgana,” he said with a dry voice.
Keira swallowed her mouthful of meat loudly while breaking out into a cold sweat. His attitude was very reminiscent of how he behaved during her training. A few tense moments passed before a relieved smile floated onto her teacher’s face.
“It is good to see you’re alive, kid.”
“Th-thank you, sir.”
“And I believe you already know Primus Silus Underwood from the FIB.”
He gestured at the man behind him. He and Keira nodded to each other in greeting. Of course, Boxxy was surprised when it heard the name ‘Underwood’ during its briefing more than a week ago, as it had used that alias during its departure from the Empire. It quickly learned this was just a weird coincidence. The only reason it chose the name ‘Chester Underwood’ back in Bootlick was because it thought of itself as a wooden chest that had gone undercover. It thought it was being clever at the time, but Snack kindly pointed out this was actually an idiotic name, so it picked something far less obvious for its next public persona.
After exchanging greetings, Faehorn began interviewing Keira regarding the events that had taken place since they last saw each other while Silus mostly stood and listened. The catgirl relayed a similar story as the rest of the escapees. Their team found themselves surrounded and surrendered as prisoners of war under Axel’s protection, but not before shattering the Comm-crystal as instructed. They were then stripped of their belongings, locked up, and took the opportunity to escape when a mysterious figure raided the Imperial army’s camp.
There was just one discrepancy that Faehorn wanted to address.
“So, you say you were freed by this Sandman character?”
“Y-yes?”
“I already know that’s not what happened, Keira.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Some of the others said you were taken away in the middle of the night by some men and came back looking… disheveled.”
“…”
The beastkin fell silent and looked down at her hands, avoiding her mentor’s eyes.
“Did they do anything to you while you were separated?”
“N-no…”
“You’re absolutely sure? Nothing happened to you?”
“…”
“Keira. Don’t make me fetch an interrogator.”
“…”
“Ah… damn, I’m no good at this…”
“Allow me, sir.”
Silus spoke up for the first time since coming into the room, then traded places with Faehorn.
“First of all, I apologize for Faehorn’s stern words. I want you to understand, you are here among friends, and you are not under any suspicion or in any sort of trouble.”
The catgirl gave a small nod.
“Now, as good as it is to see you’ve made it back, we need to know where and how you obtained the documents you brought us.”
He was referring to the ‘present’ that Keira had brought back—a bunch of maps and letters that a rookie conscript like her would have no chance of understanding.
“Is it okay if I ask you a few simple questions?”
“Sure. I mean, uh, yes, sir,” she quickly corrected herself.
“Very good. Now then, according to your dossier, you have decently developed Lockpick and Stealth Skills. Is this correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I am also led to believe that your claws can be quite dangerous when used properly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Meaning you used your natural born gifts and basic Skills to break free of your bindings while your captors were otherwise distracted.”
“Yes, sir,” she repeated yet again.
Faehorn raised an eyebrow in admiration. He was honestly quite impressed at how tactfully Silus skirted the heavy topic that he failed to approach directly. It was quite clear that, judging from what he heard, the catgirl had been sexually assaulted during her imprisonment. While that both was and wasn’t the case in reality, it was still the only conclusion he could reach. It was a sensitive issue that he clearly had no idea how to approach. He usually let his friend Lichter do the talking whenever things like this propped up. The Paladin had always been the ‘people person’ of Faehorn’s adventuring party, as he was a lot more tactful than the other two. Unfortunately, the angelic elf had been stationed somewhere else entirely, so the Ranger couldn’t rely on him this time around.
